


Five Ways Cersei Might Have Died (And One Way She Might Not Have)

by claralannister



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: (depends on chapter whether she is or not), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Daenerys Targaryen Is Not a Mad Queen, Mad Queen Cersei Lannister, Mad Queen Daenerys Targaryen, Night Queen Cersei, Other, Suicide, Valonqar Prophecy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:28:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24631576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claralannister/pseuds/claralannister
Summary: An exploration of several different ways Cersei could have died, and one scenario where she doesn't die at all.Disclaimer: This is not a Cersei bashing fic. I love Cersei. She is my favourite character. I write this not because I want to write her dying in painful ways, but because personally I didn’t like the way she died in canon, and I think she deserved a better exit. This is me exploring that. It also contains various different directions canon could have gone, and that (i.e. whether Dany is the Mad Queen or not) will be outlined briefly in the chapter notes.Chapter titles are from Macbeth. Because reasons.
Relationships: Cersei Lannister & Daenerys Targaryen, Cersei Lannister & Sansa Stark, Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister
Comments: 8
Kudos: 23





	1. Thou Shalt Be Queen Hereafter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the one where Jaime kills Cersei, and the Valonqar prophecy comes to fruition (and eight seasons of Jaime's character arc don't get thrown in the bin). I read a theory that Dany's death scene was originally written for Cersei and Jaime, and whether that's true or not I like the idea of it, so a few bits of dialogue have been taken from that and repurposed. Another little disclaimer: I'm not saying this or any future chapters are necessarily how she SHOULD have died. I'm just exploring how she could have.

The battle was over, and she had won.

Daenerys’ forces had been strong, that was unquestionable, but the dragon queen had lacked the ruthlessness she’d needed to take what was hers. She;d fought bravely, but she’d refused to expend her people or use excessive force to bend them to her will. Cersei had not made that same mistake. Parts of the city were burning, crumbling, scarred by the war, and even parts of the Red Keep had been destroyed by the dragonfire and the wildfire, but Daenerys had lost.

She was lying dead, now, somewhere at the bottom of the sea past Blackwater Bay while Cersei sat proud on the Iron Throne.

She should have been gleeful. She was, quite literally, on top of the world, with everything she’d ever wanted and more. And yet her hands would not stop shaking.

There was no one else in the throne room, no subjects to survey, no one to give her guidance or bow to her or dare to question her. There was no one left to do so. Qyburn, her closest friend, her only friend, had perished, as had Euron Greyjoy, who she hadn’t particularly liked, but he had been company. Only Ser Gregor remained, a hollow shell of his former self.

Cersei was beginning to understand how he felt.

“Cersei?”

Every nerve in her body ignited as a voice floated out of the near-darkness. She put a hand to her chest, trying to still her frightened heart.

“What do you want?” she hissed.

“Cersei?” The figure stepped out of the alcove, and Cersei froze. No. No, it couldn’t be.

But it was. He was standing there before her, his hair dishevelled and not even blonde anymore, his clothes caked in blood and dirt, his golden hand dull.

“Jaime.” _You came back for me._

_No._ No, he hadn’t. This man was a traitor. He had left her to face Daenerys’ armies alone, had ridden north against her bidding. Her heart should not be hammering in her chest at the sight of him, her arms should not be aching to embrace him.

“What are you doing here?” she said cautiously.

He stood there for a second, stunned. “I came back for you.”

She did not rise from her throne, did not rush into his arms.

“You betrayed me,” she said, her voice cracking a little. “You went against me-”

“I know,” he said softly. “I know. And I’m sorry. But I know who I’m fighting for now.” He neared the dais. “I know who I choose.”

“You’re too late,” she said. “There’s no one left to fight. Daenerys is dead, the Starks are as good as dead, the army of the dead is...gone.”

Jaime laughed, a hollow, mirthful laugh. “We’re the only two people left in the world.”

He had promised her that, years ago. And look where they were now.

She couldn’t control the flame of familiarity that ignited in her as he came to stand right before her.

“Please, forgive me,” Jaime said. “I - I love you. You and I were meant to be together.” He reached out his good hand, and it dangled inches from hers. All she had to do was reach out and take it.

She shouldn’t. She couldn’t. He should have died up north, died with the rest of the pathetic -

Her body lurched forwards, out of her own control, and she took it, flinging herself into his arms.

“I missed you” she said softly, burying herself into his shoulder.

“I missed you too,” he said.

She pulled out of the embrace, looking into his eyes. “Will you stay with me?”

“I will.”

“Will you rule by my side?”

His gaze faltered. “There’s not much left to rule over, is there?”

“I suppose not,” she said. “But we can...we can remake it.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Remake it?”

“Into whatever we see fit.” Her eyes were flickering over him now, confused as to what he was trying to say. “Don’t you understand?”

“I understand. Though what that means is-”

“It doesn’t matter.” She was smiling now, and that soft, loving smile was more unsettling than any fit of rage she could have flown into. “We get to choose what that means.”

“I see.” He nodded decidedly.

“Be with me.” She cupped his face, staring into his eyes, his green eyes a mirror of her own. “Choose what that means. This is our - this is our destiny. We were born for this, made for this. This is what we’ve been meant for since we came into this world together. We rule this world _together_.” There was a glint in her eyes.

He reached out and cupped her face back, the two of them holding each other. “Cersei. I love you. I will always love you.”

His good hand came away from her face.

“But I can’t let this happen.”

Her expression began to falter.

“All that you’ve become, all that you’ve done - I’m sorry, Cersei.”

“What are you-”

She gasped as the knife entered her back.

_And when your tears have drowned you, the valonqar shall wrap his hands about your pale white throat and choke the life from you._

“No.” She shook her head, his hand still at the wound in her back. “No. Jaime, please-”

It was too late. She began to gasp, the life leaving her slowly. Tears welled in her eyes, half-dead tears.

He held her firmly as she crumpled to the ground, grasping her in his arms as blood began to leak from her mouth.

“Why?” she croaked out.

“I’m sorry,” he said, choking on his own sobs. “I’m sorry.”

She was already dead, he told himself. The woman he had loved was long dead, killed by the throne and her power and the loss she had suffered, making her into a shell of her former self, a monster wearing his sister’s skin.

But as the light left her eyes and she exhaled one last, shaky breath, he couldn’t help but hold her tight, cradling her like a child. Her blood pooled beneath the two of them, soaking his breeches and staining them, but he hardly noticed.

He pressed a kiss to her cold forehead, one hand still resting on her throat.


	2. So Foul And Fair A Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Under the new rule of Daenerys Targaryen and Jon Snow, Cersei Lannister is about to be executed. 
> 
> But you know what they say. A lion still has claws.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Cersei's views on other characters (especially Dany and Jon) do not reflect my own. I love her dearly, but, you know. She's Cersei. 
> 
> Also, Dany is not the "Mad Queen" in this one. It's canon compliant up until about 8x04.

_She does not deserve such a dignified death._

That was what Cersei imagined so many of the people crowded into the throne room were thinking as she knelt before them, hundreds of eyes burning with hatred fixed on her. 

How fickle the people of King’s Landing were. They had cheered as Ned Stark’s head had fallen, jeered as she walked naked through the streets, stood by and watched as Ellaria Sand and Yara Greyjoy were led to the Red Keep. 

It was the highest form of entertainment for the smallfolk, she supposed. Watching the high lords play their game of thrones and tear each other apart as they stood by and laughed. 

Did Daenerys Targaryen really believe she had their love as she sat proud on the Iron Throne behind her, Jon at her side? They would turn on her the second she misstepped, scorn her the same way they had scorned Cersei. 

But not everyone in the crowd was here for entertainment. There were so many familiar faces at the front, mere metres away from her: the Greyjoys, the Martells, the Starks in their furs and fineries. Well, what was left of those houses, anyway. 

Jaime and Tyrion had declined to attend. No matter how much they had reviled her in her last years, they did not want to watch her die. 

Daenerys’ toy soldier stood above Cersei, sword sharpened and honed. Her death would be a quick one when it swung, they would not hack at her neck with an axe as she had seen happen. 

“Cersei of the house Lannister,” he said, breaking the stifling silence. “You have been sentenced to execution by beheading by Daenerys Targaryen, First of her Name, Queen of the Andals and the-”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Cersei hissed. “Must you list off every one of her never-ending titles every time you do something?”

Greyworm’s nostrils twitched in irritation, which brought Cersei a flash of satisfaction. 

“On accounts of murder, treason, and usurpation. If you have any last words, now is the time.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle at that - a nice callback, really, to Daenerys’ handmaiden. What was it she had said? _Dracarys._

Her head had fallen a long way. Cersei had nowhere near as far to fall. 

“What do you want me to do? Beg for my life? Grovel at the Dragon Queen’s feet and say ``I'm sorry” for sitting on her throne?” She chuckled. “You forgot incest, by the way, on my long list of crimes, though I suppose you can’t quite criticise me for that, can you?” She turned her head to look pointedly at Daenerys and Jon. “Nice to see that you’re continuing the family tradition.”

Daenerys clenched her jaw. Jon merely looked around furtively. 

“But then again, you know plenty about murder and treason, don’t you? Tell me, how many people had to die so you could be here today? How many people did you watch burn, their flesh melting off their skin, the ghost of a last plea still in their eyes? How many times were you and your great lumbering beasts the last thing someone saw before they drew their final breath?”

There was a gaping hollowness in her chest, a mirthful apathy from which these words poured. 

“Those people were-” 

“Oh, I know. Don’t tell me, they deserved it - no, you were doing them a favour - no, you were saving countless more from dying.” Her voice morphed into a simper, a mockery of Daenerys’ lighter tones. “Always looking for a way to justify it, aren’t you? You don’t really care. You just want to...oh, I know. You want to _burn them all.”_

If only Jaime had chosen to attend. That would have stung. 

Jon rose in his chair. “And what do you care about justice?”

“Oh, I don’t give a shit about justice. But neither do you. You talk about breaking the wheel, _Daenerys,_ but you are the wheel. You’ve squashed so many people underfoot, and none of them will ever, ever be able to escape out from under.” She looked back at the audience - yes, that’s what she had now. A captive audience. “So enjoy that, all of you. She’ll just as soon burn you in your homes as I would.” 

Greyworm went to swing his sword, but she held up a hand - two hands, then, because they were chained together. “I’m not finished.”

“Let her speak,” Jon said, and _oh_ the look in Daenerys’ eyes at that. 

He must have thought she had something of value to say. That she would let slip some of her secrets in her final speech. 

She kept looking at the crowd. “I remember the last time I had this many smallfolk looking at me at once. Though I must confess, I was significantly less clothed at the time. It felt good, didn’t it? To watch me cry and bleed while you shouted and jeered and threw shit at me. Though, in turn, it felt good to watch the fuckers burn when I set the Sept alight. And it’ll feel good to see my head come off my shoulders today.” Her eyes were alight, too, with the wildfire she had set off that day. “I hope you enjoy it.”

“Not everyone is like you,” Jon said. What did he care? “Not everyone wants to see everyone else die.”

Cersei paused for a second, letting the words settle into the air. “You weren’t made to be a king,” she said thoughtfully. “I hardly even think you want it. No matter how much dragon blood runs through your veins, you’re still a bastard boy from the North. We are what we were made to be.”

“You were not made to be a queen, either,” Daenerys protested. 

“Oh, I was. I was always destined to be queen. If anything, I was too good for the job - perhaps if I was worse, there would be more people left in King’s Landing today. But it was always going to be the death of me.”

Those were sad words. They should have been sad. Why did she sound so gleeful? 

“You know what they call me? What the people in this room, sitting in front of me call me when they think I can’t hear them?” Her eyes widened. “The Mad Queen Cersei.” A few uncomfortable gazes, not least from the front few rows. “Well, don’t you? You all think I’m unhinged, depraved, a merciless tyrant who will stop at nothing to get what she wants?” There was that smile again, soft and empty. “There was a time when I would have said you were wrong. I would have tried to defend myself, show you that I’m not _the monster you think I am_ .” Tyrion should have been here too. “But you’re right. You know what? You’re absolutely right. And it’s your fault. Because if it’s _mad_ you wanted…” Her eyes slanted back up to Daenerys and Jon. “That’s exactly what you’re going to get.”

She pressed her chained hands to the ground, and a smirk ignited on her face. 

No one else could feel it yet, but she could sense the low vibrations deep beneath the Keep. Qyburn would be dead by now, his ashes evaporated into the musty air down there, but his death would be a worthwhile one. 

“What are you doing?” Daenerys stood up, her feet somewhat uneasy on the ground. “What is she doing?”

“Why do you think I’ve been talking for this long?” Cersei said. She was no longer smirking. She was grinning. “You think I’m interested in what you think about me?”

Had the throne room always been so hot? It was getting a little unbearable, even when the warmth of the hall was a comfort in winter. The heat was beginning to ripple through the air. 

“For what it’s worth, _Dany_ , I don’t think you are like your father. Because your father would have expected more from his enemies. Aerys Targaryen - now there was a king. Absolutely mad, completely merciless, and _obsessed..._ with wildfire.”

She could feel it now, her hands away from the ground. A low, thundering rumble went throughout the throne room, and Daenerys’ eyes widened. 

“No,” she said. 

“Oh, yes,” Cersei said. 

A low murmur went throughout the room, slowly but surely, as the audience caught on.

They scrambled to escape from the back doors - they were locked. _Why were they locked?_ To stop Cersei escaping. How ironic, she thought.

“You see, if I can’t sit on the Iron Throne, then why should anyone?” Was that a tear coming down her cheek, or sweat, perhaps from the heat? It mingled with her smile unnervingly. “Why should anyone ever sit on it ever again? Why shouldn’t _I_ burn it all, like your father should have done?” 

“Unlock the doors,” Jon roared. “UNLOCK THE DOORS!”

The smallfolk at the back tried to unbolt them, but they were heavy and cumbersome, and it was a slow, arduous struggle. 

Nothing like their deaths. Those would be quick and clean, but oh, the spectacle of it all. The pretty green lights of the Red Keep would be seen from miles away. 

“We can’t,” Daenerys said. “We can’t leave. We’re all going to die in here.”

“Yes, we are,” Cersei said. “Really, this is your own fault, Daenerys. You should have known that if you were going to send me to hell I would drag you down with me.” 

They were the words of a madwoman, she supposed. She must look maniacal to everyone else, with the glint in her eyes and the tears on her face and the pained grin painted across her cheeks. But really, who could blame her? These were her last moments on earth. She may as well make them fucking _count._

The doors came loose with a thunk, and a few people began pouring out, but they wouldn’t get far. It was futile, really. 

“Remember what Missandei said?” Hotter and hotter now. “Say it. Say it, Daenerys.” She was almost grasping at her ankle, looking up at the Dragon Queen with fervour. “I want to hear you say it. To know that your own machinations have led to your downfall. That this is your doing.”

Dany was silent. An ominous green glow filling the air. They had seconds, if that. 

“ _SAY IT_!” 

She swallowed hard. “Dracarys.”

Then it all went up in flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aghhh. This was the first one of these that came into my head, and it feels so good to get it down finally. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I've gotten so used to writing a slightly "nicer" Cersei in Green-Eyed Monsters, and this was a refreshing change. (Not that I don't enjoy writing GEM).  
> And for the record, I don't think this is how the show should have ended either (killing off so many main characters in one go would be a depressing way to do it, even for GOT.) This is just an exploration.


	3. Make Thick My Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winter has come to King's Landing, and the dead come with it. The army of the living lost the battle of Winterfell, and now Cersei stands alone as the Night King's forces lay siege to her people.  
> Until, that is, she is presented with an unexpected opportunity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Serving suggestion: read while listening to [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3UqW7GEhIto&t=388s) mashup of Light of the Seven and The Night King. (Obviously, you don't have to. Just, you know, for maximum effect.)

The snow fell like ash over the city. 

Perhaps she had been foolish to underestimate the dead. Ned Stark’s bastard had been right all along, she supposed: the conflict had gone beyond house versus house, king versus queen, and her petty choice to remain out of it hadn’t helped her by any means. 

But being right didn’t make Jon any less dead, either, and begrudgingly knowing that she had been wrong wouldn’t help her now. The dead had won, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. All she could do was stand at her balcony, and watch as the dead marched towards the Keep. Towards her.

At first she had set off the wildfire, and that had destroyed the first troops. But then more came, more and more and more, marching across the scorched earth like it was nothing. There were so many of them, so many pairs of cold blue eyes beneath her. 

She let out a breath, and it condensed in the air, a pitiful wisp of smoke. 

“Your Grace.” She snapped her head around to see Qyburn standing at the doors of her chamber. “The dead have broken through our defenses.” 

She squeezed her eyes shut. “Are our men still fighting?” 

“There aren’t many of them left, Your Grace.” His eyes were filled with sorrow. “I’m afraid we’ve lost.”

“No.” She marched towards him, ignited by fury and fear. “There has to be another way. We can’t-”

“Cersei.” His voice softened, like he was talking to a child. “Please. It’s too late.”

She took a deep breath, and nodded. “Tell them to keep fighting until the end,” she said. “It doesn’t matter if we’ve lost or not. We do not give up.”

“At once, Your Grace.”

As he left, she turned back to her window. Was it her imagination, or had the air become even colder? It was biting at her skin, leaving her hands numb and hardly able to wring each other like they so often did. 

Daenerys got away, she thought mirthfully. She escaped the city on the back of her great beast and fled back North, a few of the Starks and their allies with her. Jon might have died, but those who had supported him had not all gone with him. How pitiful that  _ she _ was allowed to survive, when Cersei was fated to die here, alone, in her own castle. 

_ This is it, now.  _ she thought.  _ I need to escape. The Lannister dynasty will not end today. _

There were still a few little boats in the bay, and the passage that led from the Keep to the shore was still open. It was an exit strategy she had been considering for a long time, ever since she heard that the dead had won the Battle of Winterfell and were marching south, but she had clung too desperately to her last vestiges of power to fully go through with it. Until now. 

She made her way down the stairs, achingly aware of the roar of the ice dragon and the sounds of destruction in the city below. The Lannister men were still fighting at the gates, but she knew they wouldn’t last long. 

Perhaps she should have been concerned for the lives of her men, her people, even Qyburn and the Mountain, her allies: but she was just as numb to that as the cold air surrounding her now. No one ever survived by putting the needs of others above themselves. Jon Snow had, and look where he was now. 

Her footsteps clattered on the stairs as she descended through the castle. There was a passage in the dungeons which lead to the Bay. There must have still been a few boats out there, despite the chaos and the carnage. It was a risky move, but -

The short hairs on the back of her neck stood up as a chill shuddered through her body. 

Her heart plummeted. A deep, primal dread spread throughout her entire body, filling her with an all-consuming sense of cold fear. Her hands began to shake. 

She had never felt like this before. 

No. She had felt like this once before. It had been much less potent, but that raw, numb dread wasn’t completely alien to her. She had felt it when she had met Jon Snow at the Dragonpit, when that wight had come at her, eyes blue and dead, reaching and clawing at her throat. 

A gasp was ripped from her throat as she turned around. 

_ It’s too late. It’s already too late. They’re here. He’s here.  _

She had never seen this man, this  _ being  _ before, but she already knew who he was. His name entered her mind unbidden.  _ The Night King. _

It almost hurt to look at him. The bright blue glow from his eyes illuminated the darkness in which they stood. 

He smirked as the realisation came over her face, and began to walk towards her. 

“No,” she said, trying to put a menacing, authoritative tone back in her voice. “I am the Queen. I am - if you kill me, I will-” 

The words didn’t make sense. She was no queen of his. She was begging for her life in all but words. 

He reached for her, as the wight before had done. There were no chains now, no one to pull him back. 

She shut her eyes.  _ Make it quick,  _ she thought. 

His hand touched her face, and her world fell away. Something was ripped from her chest, but it didn’t hurt. It was as though she was being pulled, not up or down into heaven nor hell, but towards him, towards -

She could see him. Her eyes were still shut, but she could see him. 

“Cersei Lannister,” he said. 

“Is this death?” The edges of her vision were blurred, tinted blue and white. Her eyes were still shut. “Am I dead?” 

“No,” he said. His mouth did not open when he spoke. His voice was low and deep, and it echoed around her mind like a shout into a cave. “This is not death. Not yet.” 

“Why not?” Where were they? They were no longer in the Keep, but she couldn’t look away from him long enough to tell. “Aren’t you going to kill me?”

He made a noise resembling a laugh. “I am not here to kill you, Cersei Lannister. At least not in the way you fear.” 

“Then let me go. Let me-”

“Shhhh,” he said, and her mouth shut of its own volition. “I have been waiting to meet you for a very long time. I have heard a great many things about you. You call yourself queen of this kingdom, don’t you?” He shook his head. “I am the only ruler that matters here. But I admire you a great deal. I know that you are no stranger to destroying your enemies - you tried to burn my legions with wildfire, didn’t you? That was clever, but not clever enough.”

“If you’re only going to taunt me, I would prefer for you to kill me and be done with it. Have the city, have the throne. Take it all, I don’t care.”

“You would let your city fall?” 

“I don’t care about them anymore. Are you listening to me, Night King?” She spat his title. “Let. Me. Die.”

He stared at her for a moment, mirth in his glacial eyes, and she tried to hide her fear. 

“Everything they say about you is true,” he said, after a pensive silence. “You know, I admire you in a way. When I killed Ned Stark’s bastard at Winterfell, do you know what he did? He begged me to let his family live, to spare the people of Westeros. He tried to appeal to my better nature.” He looked almost amused. “How pathetic. You would never die like that, would you? Not Queen Cersei Lannister.”

“I don’t know what you’re trying to say,” she said bitterly. Her mind was still floating around - and were her eyes still shut? 

“I would like to make you...an offer, of sorts. Present you with a choice.”

“This is a choice?”

“Yes, but not in the way you think. If you refuse me, I will kill you, and you will live again as a wight, a puppet, a mere echo of your former self. Or, you can accept me, and rise again at my side. As the...Night Queen, shall we say.”

The words filled her mind with longing, but it was an artificial feeling that did not belong to her. It should have been trepidation, confusion, and those feelings tried to rise against it, but they were shot down by a force beyond her control, and the electrifying need for power engulfed her like a wave. 

“I know you, Cersei. I see right into your soul. I know that you want more. Being Queen of the Seven Kingdoms was never going to be enough for you, was it? You want to be queen of  _ everything.  _ To look at the world and call it your own. Don’t you want to watch it all burn, turn to nothing on a whim? Every little thing would be yours to control.”

_ Yes,  _ she thought, her logical, conscious mind near obliterated by her lust for power now.  _ Yes, that’s exactly what I want.  _ She remembered how it felt to burn the Sept, how it felt to stand over Septa Unella and watch the fear in her eyes. She imagined that multiplied by a thousand, a million, a number she couldn’t conceive. 

“I can give you the world, and more. I have your children.”

She gasped at the mention of them, the wave subsiding for a moment. “You do?”

“Yes. Joffrey, Myrcella, Tommen. Your beautiful golden lions who were taken from you, your legacy. I can give them back to you, and you can be with them again.” 

_ Yes,  _ she thought.  _ My children.  _ She ached to see them again. Myrcella’s tinkling laugh, Tommen’s bright smile, Joff’s sharp wit...“I can?”

“Yes. You and them can be together, forever. If you make...the right choice.” He tilted his head. “Well?”

_ Wait,  _ a voice said.  _ I’m not thinking this through. This isn’t my choice, this is - _

What a silly little voice. It didn’t belong to her. Not anymore. 

She never said the words. But she didn’t have to. A simple, satisfied nod sufficed.

His hand was still caressing her face. The tip of his icy fingernail pierced her skin.

A strange new cold began to overtake her, frost cracking across her skin, reaching her fingertips. She couldn’t look down - her eyes were still fixed on him - but if she had, she would have seen her skin being covered by a thin layer of ice, growing paler, whiter,  _ colder,  _ spreading across her whole body, changing her. 

The pit of fear in her stomach began to transform, too, into something greater. The feeling of pure, unmitigated power. No one would ever be able to stop her again, stop  _ them  _ again. Not the remaining Starks, not Daenerys Targaryen, not a single soul who dared stand in her way. 

It could all be hers. The world, her children, everything she’d lost and wanted -  _ all of it.  _ And now it would be.

Her bright blue eyes snapped open, bringing her back to reality. 

The Night Queen smiled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I had a lot of fun writing this one. This idea came from a theory going around a while ago from the Season 7 trailer where Cersei blew out a breath of cold air and it cut to the Night King, and while in the end that didn't amount to anything, I thought the idea of Cersei becoming the Night Queen was incredibly cool. I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments!


End file.
